


The Mint Pirates

by BookishTea



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Adventure, Big Brother Mycroft, Candy, Family, Family Reunions, Holmes Brothers' Childhood, Holmes Family, Humor, Kid Sherlock, Kidlock, Other, Pirate Sherlock, Redbeard is the best sidekick, Siger Holmes - Freeform, Violet Holmes - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-16
Updated: 2015-05-16
Packaged: 2018-03-30 10:52:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,833
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3934051
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BookishTea/pseuds/BookishTea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock Holmes is the best pirate to travel this world, and there is nothing he can't face with his sidekick, Redbeard. Even a nosy Mycroft can't spoil their fun.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Mint Pirates

It was noon when the sun was at its hottest, a scalding yolk in the sky. Wind lazily dragged the clouds, stirring the fluff in a blue powder. Sherlock’s hair wasn’t spared from this drifting touch, but still he welcomed it. Any breeze was a good one, the day was hotter than usual, especially when you were outside.

Earlier he had spent the better part of his morning doing lessons, tedious ones. Math was the worst, the equations were simple enough, but they droned on. Geography and history were a bit easier, though he didn’t have much use for them now. Those lessons only interested him when they involved pirates, as it was important to know your trade. And what a pirate he would be, he’d sail every sea and find gold and priceless jewels.

“William!”

He turned his head, eyes widening at the sound of his mother’s voice. And sure enough, there she was, figure hazy in the distance.

“Don’t forget to come in for lunch, it’ll be ready in thirty minutes.”

“Okay, Mummy!” he yelled back in return, squinting through the sun’s harsh rays.

“Do try to keep clean!”

Sherlock sniffed at that, face turning into a pout. A pirate wasn’t supposed to be clean, they were meant to be grimy and dangerous.

“I mean it, William!”

“Yes, Mummy.” he grumbled, he wasn’t sure how she heard him, but she did. And blowing him a kiss, she made her way back into the house. He didn’t think he’d ever understand her ways, and yet she always knew what he was up to.

“Redbeard” Sherlock whistled, calling his canine sidekick to attention. Redbeard climbed to his feet, panting as he gave Sherlock a smile, or at least Sherlock supposed it was one. Right, now the true adventure began.

Sherlock’s dress shoes squeaking against grass, he bounded across the yard and off into the woods, loyal Irish Setter by his heels.

* * *

 

Mycroft glanced up from his book, contents momentarily forgotten as he spotted his brother through a sparkling window. Sherlock was off doing who knew what, and with that dog of his. Straightening his back, Mycroft frowned as he leaned forward. Were those his good clothes, the ones he was meant to be wearing for the family reunion?

“Mummy!” Mycroft yelled, tearing his gaze away from the window.

* * *

  
****

Leaving behind a caked print from his muddy shoes, Sherlock was completely unaware of the trail he left behind. Nor was he afraid of becoming lost, he’d gone this way several times, and even Father had shown him the way. Forest reeling from the sound of cracking branches, it sent a handful of birds into the sky, noisily squawking as they fluttered their wings. And yet, both Sherlock and Redbeard ignored the birds, as up ahead was their destination.

Trees thinning out, it wasn’t long until they revealed a large pond. And right where he left it was Sherlock’s ship, stringed loosely to a solitary tree. Mycroft would just call it a raft, and it was, held together with rope and sticks. But it belonged to Sherlock, and Redbeard, of course.

Slipping his shoes off, absently the young pirate wiped his dirtied hands on his wool shorts, leaving a nasty smear. After placing his shoes gently to the side, Sherlock turned to Redbeard, surprised to see him drinking from the pond.

“Enough of that, Redbeard. It’s time to go to our fort, there could be enemies anywhere.”

His chin dripping water, slowly Redbeard raised his head, giving a quick bark. Sherlock took it as excitement, and eagerly he scampered over to the bank. Tossing a glance over his shoulder, Sherlock paused before he continued on. Dropping to his knees, his palms scraped against the rough wood but Sherlock didn’t hiss out in pain, that wouldn’t have been very pirate-like.  It was a bit difficult climbing aboard, the ship was especially rocky today. He wouldn’t have really minded falling in though, the water was nice and warm this time of year, and he knew how to swim.

“Alright, Redbeard. Ready when you are!”

His friend padded over to the raft, wet nose pressing against the skin of Sherlock’s arm before he jumped into the water.

“Redbeard!” Sherlock cried out, annoyed as the raft lurched forward with the splash, and droplets were flung. Still, Sherlock somehow unwound the rope to the tree, and got a steady position on the ship before it heaved onward.

Any concern Sherlock might have had for Redbeard were wiped away when he surfaced, swiftly swimming beside the raft and towards their island. The pond wasn’t that large, but it was big enough, and it held the quaint island comfortably.

The island wasn’t the best place to explore or to be a pirate, as it was only six meters in length.  ****

If he had wanted to do a bit of adventuring, then the rivers would have been better, the nearest led into a water-bound town. There he inspected the people, and searched for any crimes. Redbeard was the perfect companion for these types of missions, especially when a larger child found him odd. There was quite a few of those.

“Land Ho!” Sherlock called out, expression gleeful. Shifting on the sticks, he stuck a hand into the water as the ship ventured further on.

 

* * *

  ****

“Yes, Mike?”  Violet Holmes sighed, not having to pause in chopping carrots to know that her eldest son was standing in the doorway, frowning.

“You know you can’t have dessert early, it’ll spoil your appetite.”

“It’s not that, Mummy,” Mycroft groaned, ashamed when he stomped his foot childishly in irritation.

“Are you sure? You always did get cranky without a snack.”

“I just wanted to tell you that Sherlock is going out to the woods, again.”

“You don’t think I know that?” Violet said as she finally stopped cutting and turned around, wiping her hands on her stained apron.

“I uh, I never--”

“If you felt such the need to travel down to the kitchen, gracious to remove yourself from your books. Then you are more than welcomed to assist your poor mother, and get ready for this reunion.”

“But, _Mother_.”

“Enough of the attitude, Mycroft.” That had him shutting up, crinkling his nose in clear disgruntlement.

“Now, be of use and grab a knife.”

Mycroft muttered under his breath, rolling his shirt sleeves to his elbows before he grabbed a Chef’s knife. Eyeing the seventeen year old, Violet gave a fond chuckle. Mycroft bristled with the sound, looking utterly defeated.

“I thought you wanted his clothes kept clean?” He said, grabbing a peeled onion and began cutting it into large chunks.

“Much smaller than that, Mikey! And if you must know, I sent someone to look into it. And if all goes according to plan, we won’t have to worry about things getting dirty.” ****

Mycroft blinked, almost cutting a finger off.

“Watch what you’re doing, Myc!”

“ _Who?"_

* * *

It was only when Sherlock finally stepped onto the island did he hear the voice, something so simple but the deepness of it made you pause.

“Can I join you, Captain?”

Sherlock spun around, frowning; Redbeard walked onto the island as well, but his silk fur was drenched.

Standing calmly on the bank was Siger Holmes, better known as Father to Sherlock.

Pretending to think about it for a second, Sherlock tilted his head in thought.

“If you must--” Immediately Sherlock was cut off by Redbeard shaking his fur, the water spraying the pirate.

“Redbeard!”

Ignoring his son’s shrieks, Siger gave a bright smile, something that would warm any cold heart.

“I’m glad to be aboard then, Sir!”

Suddenly whistling sharply, Siger had Redbeard jumping back into the pond, swimming as quickly as possible to greet him. Brushing a hand through his now wet hair, Sherlock glowered at his dog. He’d have to demote Redbeard later, it was clear he had other connections.

Barking joyfully, Redbeard bounded up the bank to give Mr. Holmes a friendly kiss, tail wagging in delight.

“Good boy,” Siger mumbled, giving a few sound pats to Redbeard’s head. Meeting his son’s gaze, he smiled once more.

“Captain, would you prefer counting your treasure on your island? Or joining an old man on a boat, it’s always pleasant to capture more.”

And just like Redbeard had done, Sherlock scrambled for his ship, grabbing a branch resting on the ground. Sitting on his ship, Sherlock plunged his paddle into the water, and gave a mighty push. With all the strength a ten year old could muster, once again Sherlock was on the shore. It wasn’t often Father took out his boat, and when he did, it was spent being the best pirate. His ship was a magnificent creation, but the _Bee_ was just as fine. A well polished rowboat, its name was very accurate, or Sherlock thought so. He did name it after-all.

Stored down a bit further, the _Bee_ was indeed fast, with a striped hull of yellow, and black.

It was only when the trio was on the boat did Siger break the silence, used to the rocking the boat gave when they floated on the wide river.

“Nice weather, Captain?”

Wind tousling Sherlock’s hair, he looked off to the water, grinning silently.

“I suppose.”

Siger laughed at that, head thrown back as it shook his body.

“You _suppose?_  “

Dropping his head back down, Siger shook it in disbelief.

“I swear, the lot of you boys are just like your mother. Well I suppose you don’t care for the weather, a pirate can’t escape the water, despite the conditions. Good thing you’re becoming a pirate, otherwise I wouldn’t know who to give the _Flower_ to.

Ears ringing with the unfamiliar name, Sherlock blinked at his father, a question in his eyes.

“It’s a boat, a bit different than this one.”

“Bigger?”

“Of course, a good pirate needs a solid vessel. The _Flower_ is exactly that, a fine sailboat. Not the proper size for a pirate, but still large. I titled it after your Mum, and it’s beautiful like her, all sleek red.” Nodding his head at the thought, Siger continued paddling.

“I figure she’d be fine to even sail on the ocean, spend a few days out there mucking about. What do you think, m’boy? Sound good?”

Nodding his head without hesitation, Sherlock found himself beaming openly to his father. And yet a thought troubled him, brows furrowed he asked,

“But what about food? Or sleeping? Pirates like us need beds.”

“And what? You think your old man would let you starve!?” Siger laughed, freeing a hand to tousle Sherlock’s hair. The young boy flushed at the attention, pretending to lean away, but in reality craving his father to continue. Even a pirate gets lonely, and Redbeard could be a bit silent in their conversations.

"But a good question, Sherlock. There’s a interior that comes with it, but there isn’t really any beds, mostly these compact couches. If really want to follow the pirate life, I’m sure we can set up a few hammocks.”

“I’m sure the couches would be fine.” Sherlock said rather quickly;  ****

Siger merely smiled.

“Now, let’s talk about something else. When are you going to empty out your pockets?”

Silence fell between them, Siger’s gaze not leaving Sherlock’s as he rose a brow. Bitterly Sherlock broke and relented, removing his newest treasure from his pocket, four nicely wrapped chocolates.

“How’d you know?”

Siger snorted at that, finally ceasing his rowing and setting the paddles down on the boat's floor. Fixing his son with an attentive eye, he froze him to his seat.

“I’m not as simple minded as you two boys like to believe.”

“I never--”

“Enough. An old dog can have his own tricks, just ask Redbeard.” Siger said with a nod, before he went on to say,

“Sherlock, you can’t steal things from Mycroft.”

“He hardly needs them.” Sherlock mumbled under his breath, pride stung and filled with guilt.

“Hand them over.” Siger demanded, not satisfied until the chocolates were pressed into his hand. As soon as they were, he tore off the wrapping of one and popped it  into his mouth.

Sherlock’s jaw became slack in shock, staring at his father.

“I’m a pirate remember?” Siger said with a wink, the next second it was replaced with a glare,

“Joking aside, you really have to stop bickering with him, Sherlock. Now close your mouth, and take this.”

Dumbly Sherlock accepted the sweet, a million thoughts racing through his head as he pondered his father. Usually he was easy to deduce, but today he was just as bad as Mummy.

“No doubt you’re mother is going to go mental, after what you’ve done to your clothes.”

Looking down, Sherlock flinched.

“Oh well, it can’t be helped. That sweet will ease the future a bit, or at least the tongue lashing. The rest of this, will go back to your brother, Sherlock. Which you shall be returning.”

Head shooting up, Sherlock groaned at the chore of being civil.

“All this belly aching won’t do you any good, Sherlock. Now that’s done and over, I figure it’s getting a bit hot out? Fancy a swim, m’boy?”

* * *

 

It was two hours into the family reunion, and Violet was absolutely certain that she was going to strangle her husband. It wasn’t often when the Holmes family came together, but when it did happen, it was a huge event.

With the help of an ever bickering Mycroft, Violet had managed to finish off the meals, while the staff tidied up their house. Everything was perfect, and positively gleaming. The only thing that was missing, was Siger and their son, Sherlock.

Currently Mrs. Holmes was in a conversation with her brother-in law, Rudolph. Each second she spared a glance from him and looked off to the door-frame, unaware that she wrung her hands nervously.

 _What if he fell and broke a leg? The silly old man, always trying to play a hero. He’d probably just laugh it off and act like he’s fine, the ideas he puts in their heads,_ Violet thought,

“Well look who just showed up!’ Rudolph laughed, a hearty sound that gave Violet a jostle. Head snapping upwards, Mrs. Holmes was finally rewarded with the sight of her husband and child.

Sherlock desperately tried to hold back a smile, all eyes on him as he rode on his father’s shoulders. Unlike his father, Sherlock was covered in dirt. His once pristine white shirt was torn on the shoulder, while his shorts were smeared in mud, and the _shoes_. There was no hope of recovering those, they were dipped into mud beyond recognition.

Siger fared a bit better, but only slightly. He was soaked to the bone, everything was wet, from his once wrinkle-free trousers, to the wool sweater he insisted on wearing. And yet, each were glowing with happiness.

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world, Rudy!” Siger chuckled in return, quickly striding over to his brother.

“Clearly you were up to something.” Rudolph said as he nodded up to Sherlock, giving the pirate a sly wink.

“How’s the water, warm?”

“Perfect.”

“Ah, then we should take a boat out. Oi, Theo! Are you up for fishing?”

Meanwhile Violet was stewing in her rage, everyone was ignoring her, acting as nothing was wrong. Tongue coated in bitterness, Violet finally addressed the issue at hand.

“Siger, where were you actually?”

“Out on the _Bee_ , m’love.”

“You were on a boat!?”

Siger hummed in response, jumping a bit so Sherlock bobbed in the air.

“Indeed, spent some time with Sherlock here. I figured he was a bit lonely.”

Violet inhaled slowly, her eyes fluttering over to her blushing son. Moving his free-hand, Siger patted at his wife’s arm, face crinkling with a smile,

“Now you didn’t have to worry, we’re all fine.”

“Dramatics aside, let’s eat some grub!”  Rudolph called out excitedly, giving a loud clap with his eagerness.

Violet was still a bit irritated, but she was content for now. Everyone appeared to having a grand ole time, milling about and laughing with one another.

“And where did you think you are going, lad!?” Rudolph chortled, finding Mycroft trying to sneakily run off to the kitchen, most likely wanting to get a sample of dessert.  Grabbing the teenager, he ruffled his head with a fist as he put him in a headlock.

“Uncle Rudy, stop!”

“I can’t hear you, Mikey.”  Rudolph laughed a loud, causing everyone around him to also giggle.

Smiling at his brother’s predicament, Sherlock reached into his pocket, and withdrew a chocolate. Quietly unwrapping the sweet, Sherlock popped it into his mouth.

Creamy chocolate melted on Sherlock’s tongue, soon uncovering a mint tone. Smoothing his tastebuds, the sweetness positively bubbled.

“William! That dog of yours is getting mud everywhere!” His mother shrieked in dismay; maybe he’d have to return Redbeard back to his original position.

For the meantime, Sherlock just laughed along with his father and the rest of his family.

 

 

 


End file.
